Inside the Vale
by Acolyte of the Bacon God
Summary: When you're around a thousand years old and one of the last of your kind, you have a lot to think about. Especially if you're paired with a vampire older than the ages and sent to retrieve a mythical bow. Snow Elf OC/Serana implied friendship. Mild Dawnguard spoilers!


The ice was cracked, yet thick enough to support her weight as she carefully tread barefoot across the frozen lake. It was like she was home again, a thousand years sweeping over her like it was just yesterday she was a child, playing in the snow with her brothers without a single care about anything save for the tightly-packed snow hitting her face, sending her tumbling to her backside as Nínimdor and Faichon shared a laugh before snow and broken ice hit their knees.

Here was the closest to home that Faenil would ever get. The Vale was the last remaining homage to Snow Elf civilization and architecture, the Wayshrines and broken, neglected columns bringing a tightness to her throat that she couldn't swallow back until she was far enough away, up in a tree or sitting on the ice with her legs dangling in the chilly water. She'd left her boots, gloves and backpack on the other side of the lake, opting to change into her at-home clothes rather than the armor that designated her as a Dawnguard agent.

She still hadn't told Isran the truth. He and the Dawnguard were still certain she was simply a Bosmer with a skin condition. She would tell him, someday. Someday when they weren't all so worried about the vampire menace, someday when things calmed down and they were allowed to collectively relax for at least a day. When she and Serana secured Auriel's Bow, that day would be so much closer.

Serana had gone off on her own for a while. Faenil didn't mind; for the past month it felt like they'd been simply dragging one another around. From her sarcophagus to her caste, from her caste to Fort Dawnguard, from Fort Dawnguard to Winterhold to a cave to rescue a Moth Priest and straight back to Winterhold, to an insane man's hideout all the way into Dwarven ruins, a place so far out of Faenil's own comfort zone that the minute they set foot into Alftand, she'd passed out.

Blackreach had been beautiful, in a frightening way. She had demanded Serana keep her hands and spells to herself - she still considered the Falmer her brothers, and refused to kill any of them. One or two had found them and attacked, prompting her to paralyze them long enough for the two ancients to escape. It had been a difficult journey, but when they'd gotten the Elder Scroll it was all worth it.

The Vale was beautiful in a different way. Ice reflected everything, from trees to the deer that occasionally wandered into the frozen areas, to Faenil as she took slow, deliberate steps. The occasional sabre cat stalked the forests, nothing that couldn't be remedied by a quick escape or her sharp archer's reflexes. She tried to avoid killing. After a lifetime spent in the Nordic Holds of Skyrim, the off-colored fauna of the Vale mystified her. Deer and their predators were certainly not an endangered species, but to see them like this was a once in a lifetime chance, and that they were never seen outside Darkfall Cave or the Vale kept Faenil from violence.

Skeletons littered the lake's surface the closer she got to the larger cracks, intense blemishes on the surface by the waterfalls that could only have once imprisoned a great beast. She wasn't worried. Nothing was coming to get someone of little importance in the grand scheme of things. The wall in the middle of the lake was certainly curious, with its glowing runes and was that chanting? She couldn't understand the words or letters; though they were similar to the Falmeri alphabet she paid it no mind. She approached the edge of the ice, overlooking the waterfall and the other lake that sprawled out beneath it, and wondered if someone who fell directly into the lake, barring any sudden contact with rocks or ice, would live. She wouldn't try. She couldn't swim, and was not going to dare risk drowning, not on an important mission such as this.

Could Serana hear her from this high up?

"Serana!" Faenil shouted as loud as her lungs would allow. She waited for an answer.

"Faenil!" came an echo from her left, a long way away.

"Serana, I hate to tell you this, but your tongue can't find a comfortable place to rest in your mouth!"

A pause.

"You suck, Faenil!"

She laughed. And she was sure Serana was having a chuckle as well.


End file.
